Rose Mortimer; Or, The Ballet-Girl's Revenge — page 179: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE BALLET-GIRL’S REVENGE. 173 Saran nnn RR “You believe nothing of the kind,”’ said the necro- mancer. “ You think that this is a poor and help- less woman whom you can yenture to insult with im- punity.”’ “ce Sir 13? “‘Pshaw! No indignation with me. How dare you detain that woman, sir?” “‘T never—”’ “* Don’t attempt to exonerate yourself,” interrupted Mermet. ‘“‘T’ve nothing to fear.”’ ** Let this woman pass.’’ “Oh, I can let her pass,’”? grumbled the money- taker. He touched the turnstile and the woman went through. *‘ Thank you, sir, for your kindness, I’m sure,’’ she said, dropping a curtsey. “ All right.”’ ‘Good night, sir.” *“ Good night.”’ The necromancer stopped behind to engage the money-taker in conversation, whilst his messenger got safely over with her load. ‘It seems to me that you are an impertinent fellow,’’ quoth Mermet. ce Sir 172 «* And J shall report you.’’ “‘ Lor, sir, I’ve only done my duty in all this.” ‘¢ How your duty ?” ‘“ Why you see, sir, these women is up to all sorts o’ dodges. They pops their children in carpet bags and drops ’em over.”’ “Oh !”? said Mermet dryly. He shot unpleasantly near the mark this time, and the magician did not at all relish the speech. ““This has been done?’’ he demanded of the money- taker. ** Often.” “You don’t say so.’’ “Only last Saturday, sir, a woman dropped over a brown paper parcel, which was found to contain the body of a new-born infant.”’ ** Horrible !’’ «6 Yes.?? “ But still it is not exactly the thing to annoy any passenger who happens to carry a load because such a thing has happened once.’’ ““ No, sir, only the out-of-the-way time to be carry- ing such a load.” (a4 Yes.” Whilst they talked thus Mermet backed the money~ taker into his box. Thus stationed, the latter could only see just before him, whilst Mermet could see right across the bridge. He perceived the woman struggle along under her load until she arrived in the middle of the bridge, according to instructions. Then she entered one of the recesses, mounted the seat, and with great difficulty raised the carpet bag to the top of the parapet. ‘¢ What was that ?” What ?” ‘¢ Didn’t you hear something ?”’ asked the money- taker. Not I.’’ “Sounded strange.”’ “Your fancy.” But Mermet had heard something. He was waiting for it anxiously, and caught it much more distinctly than the money-taker had done. It was a dull heavy splash in the water. The carpet bag was cast over. The dull muddy Thames was now the unlallowed grave of Arthur Brownbill. “Well, well,” thought the necromancer, “that’s all over—well over !” And nodding to the money-taker he passed on. “‘T don’t think that that is half right after all,” muttered the man. A hansom cab passed through the gate at this moment. The toll keeper presented himself at the door to take the passenger’s fee, but the latter called through the trap in the roof of the vehicle to the driver. * Pay the toll, coachman.” “Yes, sir.” And off the cab rattled as only the London hansom can travel. The money-taker remained stock still staring after it until it had disappeared. Then he retreated once more into his box. **T could almost swear to that voice,’? he said to himself. ‘‘ It sounded just like that little hunchback. I could see his face. It strikes me very forcibly that there’s something queer been up.”’ A few days after the events just recorded a great criminal report was in everybody’s mouth. Every one of the metropolitan journals was filled with it. It was the subject of the most extraordinary dis- cussion. Speculations upon the matter were made by every one. A fearful discovery had been made by a waterman upon the river. A large carpet bag had been found clinging to one of the stone buttresses of Waterloo Bridge. The waterman had opened it and found it to con- tain—oh, horror!—a mutilated human body. . It was so cut and hacked about as to be utterly beyond recognition. The body was taken by the authorities and laid out as well as possible in the dead house. Many persons had been to see it, but none could decide who was the unfortunate being. Evidence could not be collected. It defied the utmost efforts of the police, and they got up a story about its being the frolic of some medical students from one of the hospitals. This tale, absurd as it was, passed muster. The police, who had so signally failed to trace the fearful crime, escaped censure, and this was all they desired. A short time, and the crime, which had filled the mouths of all London and the columns of all the news- papers, was heard of no more. But now to resume. The day following the tragedy and finish of the ill- fated Arthur Brownbill the necromancer presented himself at Lotty Chepstow’s house. He found the poor girl scarcely more composed than when he had quitted her upon the previous night. A sleepless night and harrowing thoughts had done their work. She deemed herself a murderess. In this horrible word is said enough to account for all her miseries. ‘Come, come,” said the necromancer soothingly. “‘ You must take heart, my dear young lady. You must shake off this despondency. Reason yourself out of it.’”’ ‘¢ Tmpossible.”” ‘<‘ Nothing is impossible,”’ said Mermet. that the word exists.’’ ‘¢ Would that I could!” py.” “‘T cannot.” ‘¢ And why ?”’ ‘¢ Alas! ask me not.” ‘ Forget =Onnnie SO